The Words Between Them
by RockX2
Summary: -Milady/Milord Prompt- When Jeff accidently takes home one of Annie's notebooks, he gets curious about what's inside. The result has him tangling with old and new feelings, and he comes to realize what Annie makes him feel about their relationship. And himself. -One Shot-


**The Words Between Them**

"Wake _up_, Mr. Winger!"

Jeff's eyes shoot open, and he's momentarily dazed at the room's brightness. Slowly, he lifts his head off his desk, ignoring the fact that it feels as heavy as a slab of bricks. He notices a small puddle of drool on his desk, and wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. Professor Vodauire stands on his left, tapping his foot impatiently. It's the only sound in the room, and it echoes painfully off the walls and ceiling, reverberating through his head.

"This is the second time you've fallen asleep during today's class, Mr. Winger. Hopefully I'm not _boring_ you."

Jeff blinks once. Twice. "Not at all, professor. In fact, I wasn't even sleeping. You see, I have this condition where I process information better with my eyes closed." The rest of the class bursts out in small fits of laughter, but Professor Vodauire rolls his eyes.

"Well perhaps you'd like to bring a doctor's note next time?"

"I'll call him as soon as class is over, sir."

Professor Vodauire smiles. "_Wonderful_." He begins moving up Jeff's row, back to the front of the classroom. Jeff sticks his tongue out at the professor's retreating backside.

When his study group suggested they take World History together this year, he really didn't think much of it. After all, the rest of Greendale was completely ridiculous: classes about living in the moment, ladders and their countless functions, the very complicated, _scientific_ art of advanced breath holding. But from the moment they stepped into this class, it was obvious Professor Vodauire was a _real_ teacher. He finished his lectures with time to spare, homework every class, weekly papers. It was as if Jeff was in a real college. And he _hated_ it.

"Late night at the bar, Jeff?" Pierce asked from behind him. "Did you go to the gay one down on 84th? Or the _really_ gay one two blocks down?"

"Funny, Pierce," Jeff replies, turning slightly in his seat to face him. "Did _you_ remember to take your medicine this morning?"

Pierce's eyes widen for a moment, and he looks back and forth across the room. "Yes…" As Jeff turns back around, he notices Pierce reach for his shirt pocket out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself.

The truth was Jeff had been at a bar last night, but it was neither of the two on 84th Street. It had opened not to long ago, and it was full of fresh faces, hipper music, and people who appreciated his high dollar jeans. He found himself going there more and more often, waking up each morning with headaches that pulsed a little harder then the last. He was losing himself there, and he was enjoying it.

Professor Vodauire reaches the front of the room, slowly turning to face the class as he checks his watch. "We're almost out of time," he says. "So let's stop here for the day." He pauses a moment as everyone begins to gather their things. "And just to make sure you're all _processing_ the information," he locks eyes with Jeff for just a second. "Let's have a quiz on Thursday." The class groans. "Oh, come now. It won't be too difficult. Just on what I've talked about in these last, oh I don't know, ten, fifteen minutes?" He smirks and Jeff rolls his head back, cursing silently.

As they exit the classroom, Jeff rubs his eyes, which suddenly feel very sore. At that moment, he reaffirms his hate for Professor Vodauire. _What a douchebag. _The rest of the group chats behind him. He thinks Shirley is talking about something cute Ben did the previous night, which successfully has Annie and Britta _ooooooooing _and _aweeeeeeeing _left and right. But he's not totally sure because he's only half listening.

As they enter the study room, they all take their designated seats. Jeff falls into his a little two fast, almost sending it falling backwards. He catches himself though, putting it back on four legs. He gives a small sigh, but notices the rest of the group staring at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Are you okay, Jeff?" Shirley asks.

"Yeah," Britta adds. "You've been falling asleep in class a lot lately."

"Are you getting enough?" Annie says. "Sleep, that is. Insomnia can turn into a real problem." She leans forward slightly, meeting his stare. And Jeff is met with two things: her completely sincere, bright blue eyes that he almost loses himself in, and a _magnificent_ view of her cleavage. He holds her gaze for a few moments before she sits back, a look of worry still plastered on her face.

He takes another few seconds to really _look_ at her. She's wearing a pale green dress with yellow flowers making up a striped pattern. White stockings run the length of her creamy legs, settling comfortably into her shoes. Her hair rests slightly curled below her shoulders, and he has to fight the urge to reach over and smooth a loose strand back behind her ear.

"Guys," he finally replies, raising his hands. "I don't have _insomnia_. I've just had a few too many late nights." The group shares a look of confusion. "Well, this new bar opened up-"

"Called it!" Pierce says mockingly from across the table.

"Is it a bar like the one in _Cheers_?" Abed asks. "And if so, when are you going again, and what time can you pick me up?"

"Why do you guys get to have all the fun?" Troy says, crossing his arms. "Guys night out? I'm in."

"Outrageous!" Pierce pipes up. "I can't believe you guys are leaving me out again!"

"No one's leaving you out of _anything_, Pierce, because there's nothing to leave you out _of_," Jeff explains, a slight pain in the back of his head. "We're not going."

"Weak," Abed replies.

"How often do you go to this bar, Jeffery?" Shirley asks. "And what kind of good, _Christian_ things do you do there?"

"I don't go that much," he says. "It's just, when I do go, I can definitely feel it the next day."

"Professor Vodauire can feel it too," Britta replies. "I'm pretty sure we have this quiz on Thursday because of you."

Jeff scoffs. "Yeah, it's _definitely_ because of me. Have you guys considered that guy just _sucks_?"

"Yeah, it sucks to quiz us on the material _you_ were asleep for."

Jeff opens his mouth to respond, but stops himself. "Fair point…" he admits grudgingly. Britta smirks as he relaxes into his seat. "Oh well. It's just one little quiz. I can afford an F every now and then." He stares up at the ceiling and closes his eyes.

"Jeff!" Annie exclaims. "That's ridiculous. No one deserves an F." He opens one eye to look at her again. "Tell you what, I'll re-copy my notes tonight, and give them to you tomorrow so you can learn the material by Thursday!"

Jeff smiles. He could always count on Annie. In fact, he doesn't think he would've gotten through his first three years without her. She's just so smart, funny, charming, _sexy… _He shakes his head. What was he thinking? "Annie, you're a life saver. Thank you."

Her face flushes slightly as she smiles at him. "N-No problem!"

The rest of meeting passes by relatively uneventful. Jokes are told and misinterpreted, Pierce says a record breaking six offensive things within a thirty second span, and Troy and Abed discuss which series of movies they'd like to tackle tonight. Jeff isn't totally sure, but he thinks they've decided on _The Matrix _trilogy.

As they group disperses, Jeff stands from his chair a little to quickly and stumbles slightly. Unfortunately, Annie is passing by him at that exact moment. The resulting crash knocks them both to the floor, the contents of Annie's backpack spilling out, and Jeff dropping his own books. Pierce laughs.

Jeff rubs his leg. "Jesus, Annie are you…" he trails off. Annie's dress has hiked up slightly, giving Jeff a peek at her inner thighs, and a hint of white lace underwear. It suddenly feels like something is tugging at him in the lower pit of his stomach. Annie's rubbing her lower back, but when she notices her dress, she yelps slightly, pulling it back down and blushing furiously.

"I'm sorry!" she says.

Jeff tries to regain his composure. "No, it was… I, um…" His mouth has gone dry, and he feels stupid. An awkward silence has stretched out between them, and Annie begins to quickly gather her books back up. Jeff helps, scrambling between the scattered papers and folders.

"I'm sorry!" she keeps telling him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Annie," Jeff says, shuffling some papers together and sticking them in a folder. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault."

Once their supplies are straightened away, he stands, offering her his hand. She takes it, and he's surprised by the warmth of her touch. "Thanks," she breathes. He smiles at her, ignoring the strange churning of his gut.

After he helps her to her feet, nothing is said between the two of them for a long moment. The rest of the study group has left, and Jeff isn't exactly sure how long they've been alone. Annie resituates her backpack, and begins smoothing out her dress, averting her eyes to the floor.

He secures his books under his arm, and clears his throat. "Well, um… Thanks, again, for uh…"

She nods rapidly, her hair bouncing. "Yeah! No problem! I…" Her face grows even redder as she turns on her heel, and walks out of the study room. "See you tomorrow!"

Jeff holds an arm out after her, but can't bring himself to say anything, which makes him feel even stupider. He shakes his head as he also leaves. His bed is looking real nice right now.

_**-sixseaonsandamovie-**_

Jeff keeps his apartment cold, because he likes the cold. It helps him sleep better when he finally decides to go to bed. So as he opens the door to his apartment, he's met with nice cool air. It blasts over his face, and he instantly slumps his shoulders and relaxes. He removes his jacket, hanging it on the back of his door, and tosses his books on the kitchen table.

He gets an ice cold ginger ale from his fridge, and pops the can with a satisfying _snap. _He kills half the can in a few swigs, enjoying the smooth sensation as it runs down his throat. He plops down on the couch, turning the television on with the remote. He mindlessly flips through the various channels, nothing really catching his eye.

He glances at the clock on his wall, debating whether or not he should go to the bar tonight. It would definitely get his mind off Vodauire, whose attitude was still bugging him. He did meet this pretty blonde there last night, and he's not sure, but he thinks she said she was coming back the next night. He throws the idea around in his head a little longer, and he can't come up with a reason as to why he _shouldn't_ go.

Just as he stands from the couch to take a shower, he thinks of Annie. He's not sure exactly why, either; her face just pops into his head sometimes. But as he thinks of her, he also thinks of her carefully redoing her notes from today, making sure they're perfectly legible and double spaced, just how he likes it. Her delicate hand running across the page as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

Instead of going to the bathroom, he makes a detour to his fridge to get another ginger ale. It won't be fair to her if he goes out to the bar again. As he pops open the can and turns around, the sun shines through his shades, and something glints on his kitchen table. He's taken slightly off guard as wanders over to it. To his surprise, he discovers the sun is glinting off the neon-almost metallic- color of his bright pink notebook. He shrugs to himself as he takes another drink from his can, heading back towards the couch. He suddenly stops in his tracks.

_A _pink _notebook? _

He approaches the table again, picking the notebook up with his free hand. In the bottom right hand corner, written in her elegant scrawl, are the words, _Property of Annie Edison 3. _He raises an eyebrow, a sense of confusion slamming through his system. Why in the hell did he have Annie's notebook? And how in the hell had he obtained it? It's then that he remembers their little stumble, and the books that went everywhere. Feeling worried, he checks the top of the notebook, and curses.

_History of Western Civilizations. _

"Damn it," he mutters. This was her _History_ notebook. The notebook she was going to copy her notes from. He tosses it back on the table with an air of frustration. He sits down at the table, sitting his drink to his left, and pulling a pen from his pocket. "Guess I'll do it myself."

He flips open the front of the notebook, slightly blown away by all the words. Annie has very impressively, seemingly copied down everything Professor Vodauire has ever said. There are different columns of separated information, all carefully labeled, along with annotations written in between every third line. He flips a page. Specific phrases are highlighted, and some key words have been circled- all of it done in her signature purple ink.

He takes the time to think if there will ever be a time where he won't be impressed by that girl. Annie is the kind of person to put others before herself, something Jeff admires, although he doesn't really see the point of it. Other people hold you back, at least that's his philosophy. He was a lawyer, a damn good one; he's seen the ugly side of people- those who have no problem tearing a person down to get what they want. Annie Edison wouldn't last one day in the real world- a world outside Greendale.

However, in his years at Greendale, Jeff's learned to see her side. Having friends isn't entirely a bad thing, and there's nothing wrong with helping them out. Her compassion is one of the many things he likes about her.

He continues flipping through the notebook, trying to find what he needs to copy, but he has no idea what chapter they're on or what they're even studying right now. He considers calling Annie and asking her, but he doesn't want to send her into a tizzy about her notebook. He quickly scans page after page, trying to find something that would give him a clue to their current unit. He turns one page, skims it, and is about to turn again, when he stops himself. Something catches his eye in the top left hand corner of the page.

_Jeff. _

He blinks. There, nestled in the top of the corner, far away from the rest of her writing, is the word. It's underlined several times, and circled once. He raises an eyebrow, shrugging his confusion off his shoulder. It's odd, but he doesn't have time to dissect her notebook. He turns to the next page, equally surprised but what he sees.

_Jeff Winger. _

This time, his name is decorated with little cross hatched stars, and it's almost exactly in the same spot. He's momentarily thrown off again. That's not once, but _twice_ his name has shown up in this notebook. He can't help but think it's a little odd. He turns another page.

_**Jeff Winger. **_

There it is again. Jeff reaches up to scratch the back of his head. This time, it appears his name has been written so many times, it's actually creased into the paper. It's so bold and clear. He places his pen on that page, and closes the notebook. He steps back from the table, taking another drink. It has escalated from being odd to being _creepy_. Why has Annie been writing his name repeatedly in her notebook?

Jeff's aware that Annie has had feelings for him in the past. In fact, he's caught her looking at him enough times to prove it. Sure, he mistakenly kissed her at the end of their freshman year, and she's been trying to get closer to him ever since. That's his fault. And it certainly hasn't helped that he's returned just as many of her sidelong glances. As to _why_ he has… He can't say exactly.

He definitely feels…_something_ for her, but he's not sure _what_. He guesses he's attracted to her, but who wouldn't be? She's beautiful and instantly brightens up any room she happens to walk into. Plus, and Jeff can't explain it, she _does_ something to him: something that is beyond his comprehension.

But he can't feel that way for her. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. Annie's so good, and he's so _not_. She deserves so much more then a guy like him can offer. If he admitted his feelings for her, and they in fact entered a…_relationship_, he would want to go out every night, drink till he can't feel his face, and then come home for _fantastic_ sex. She would want to watch chick-flicks while cuddled up on the couch, talk about their _feelings_, and maybe, after a month, she'd let him hit second base. She's a wildflower, and he's a wildfire. It just wouldn't work.

Or at least that's what he tells himself.

He returns to the notebook, opening it back up to the page his pen held. He takes one last glance at his name before turning to the next page. He's met with more events corresponding with dates, cause and effect lines, and highlighted paragraphs. He's also met with more writing in the upper left hand corner, away from Annie's carefully transcribed notes.

_Jeff Winger + Annie Edison. _

He gives a massive sigh, reaching for ginger ale. This confirms his suspicions: Annie is into him a little _too_ much. She wants a relationship, and that's something Jeff just can't give her. He wishes she would just come forward and ask him so he could, very _gracefully_, shoot her down. At least then, she wouldn't be torturing herself with this. But, as he thinks about it, he wonders if he _could_ shoot her down if she asked.

He turns another page. He doesn't even care about the notes anymore. His eyes immediately find the upper left hand corner.

_Mr. Jeff Winger and Mrs. Annie Winger. _

This time, the words are circled and decorated with small purple hearts that are colored in. Jeff rubs his temple. Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep _torturing_ himself with this notebook? He buried his _thoughts_, his _feelings_, _everything_ he felt for Annie. And this notebook has done nothing but dig them back up.

In a fit of rage, he stands from the table, gripping the notebook in his hand. The sun is setting now, and it shines through his blinds again, giving the notebook another glint in its rays. It's almost shining.

"No," he tells the notebook, shaking it in his hand slightly. "No!" he yells, flinging the _damn thing_ across his apartment. It lands face down beside his couch. He takes a deep breath. He can't do this anymore. He has to call Annie and tell her he accidently picked up her notebook. He'll tell her not to worry, and he'll bring it to her.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and hovers over her contact name. Several minutes pass, but he does nothing. His thumb trembles over the call button.

_Why can't I do this? _He thinks. The solution is so simple: call Annie, and end this. But he can't. Is it because he doesn't _want_ to? Calling Annie means re-burying his feelings, which will surely never be dug up again. He wants that, he thinks. He wants to stop thinking about this, about _her_.

"So call her!" he tells himself, holding his phone closer to his face. "You heartless _coward_…"

He shoves the phone back in his pocket, running a hand through his perfect hair. He takes slow, cautious steps toward the notebook. He _hates_ himself. And he _hates_ the notebook. He's standing over it now, and he notices it opened mid-flight, resting on a page. He grips the edge of the book, and lifts it off the floor, turning it over in his hand.

There are no notes on the paper, but there are also no words in the upper left hand corner. Instead, Jeff is met with a giant heart that takes up almost the whole page. It has the pointed end of an arrow coming out one side, and the tail end of it coming out the other. Stars surround the heart, making a circle with their pattern. Inside the heart, written in bright purple ink, are the words _JEFF WINGER. _

A wave of emotion washes over him, and Jeff's not sure what it means. He suddenly feels _happy_, like the kind of _happy_ he feels when he finds something he's lost for years. It is at that moment when he realizes what that _something_ is that Annie makes him feel. She's so perfect, and the most _genuine_ person he's ever met. She's _real_. And she makes him feel real to.

He doesn't want to be a slimy lying lawyer when he's around her. He doesn't want to take advantage of her, or leave her out of things. He doesn't want to knock her down if she's in his way. He wants to be Jeff Winger. He wants to be _real_.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulls it from his jeans to find he has a text. From Annie.

_Do you have my History notebook?! _

He smiles at her worry. She's freaking out because she doesn't want him to see all of her private name writing. He types back a single word.

_Yes. _

_**-sixseasonsandamovie- **_

The next morning, Jeff meets Annie at her locker to return the notebook. He clutches it tightly under his arm, and she's so preoccupied with grabbing books, she doesn't even see him coming.

"Milady," he greets, bowing slightly, and holding the notebook up in front of him.

She giggles and quickly snatches it from his grasp. She curtsies slightly, and he smiles. Reaching into her locker, she pulls out a dark blue notebook. "Milord," she replies, offering it out to him.

He takes it. "Thank you," he says. "And I'm sorry." He nods towards her pink notebook.

She waves it off. "Hey, it's okay! I'm sorry I didn't get your notes copied!" She pauses. "I know it's not like me, but I don't date my notes. I hope…you didn't try to find them yourself."

He shakes his head. "I didn't even know I had it until you texted me."

A look of relief painfully washes over her face. "Oh, good…" she says, but then she catches herself. "I mean… Sorry again! I'll _definitely_ have them by this afternoon!"

Jeff puts his hands on her shoulders. "Annie," he says slowly. "It's okay. I'm not worried about it."

She looks up at him. "You're not?"

"No. In fact, I have a better idea. Why don't you swing by my place this evening? Then we can _discuss_ the material instead of me just _reading_ it."

She looks confused. "But…we could just do that in the study room."

Jeff nods. "True." He inches closer to her, and she takes a sharp intake of breath. "But you know what we _can't_ do in the study room? Go to a nice restaurant; maybe have a few drinks…"

"Jeff!" she exclaims. "Are you…" she takes a peek around, lowering her voice. "…_asking me out_?"

He grins. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just throwing ideas out there off the top of my head. But if I _was_ asking you out, would you except?"

"_Yes_," she says instantly.

"Perfect!" he says, clapping his hands together and turning around. He takes a glance over his shoulder. "I'll pick you up around seven?"

"Jeff, wait!" She runs after him. He stops, and she spins him around. "What's gotten into you? I mean, just suddenly _asking me out_ like this?"

He grins. "Well let's just say…" He leans forward, tapping the notebook she's still holding. "I learned a _lot_ about the History of Western Civilizations last night."

She gasps, blushing furiously as she holds the notebook to her chest. "_Jeff!_" She pauses, and her face flushes even brighter. "You _liar_!" She rushes forward, hitting him in the arm with the notebook. Again. And again.

Jeff laughs as he pulls her into a hug, resting his chin atop her head. She buries her face into his chest. "I care about you, Annie," he whispers. "And I'm finally ready to admit it." He runs a hand through her hair. "Thank you."

She pushes against him slightly, giving her enough room to look up at him. She looks so beautiful, he thinks, even in the light of one of _Greendale's_ hallways. Her shining blue eyes cause his stomach to lurch forward slightly. "For what?"

He kisses her forehead. "For being real."


End file.
